


Empty Night

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Series: I'll Be There For You (Platonic Week III) [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dresden Files Fusion, Can yoooou figure out whodunit?, Gen, Horror, If you skim I won't be insulted, In the first page or so, Minor Character Death, Murder Mystery, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Someone gets offed pretty nastily, There's also a surprise guest appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-01-27 22:51:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12592304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: From the Chicago Yellow Pages:"Takashi Shirogane – WizardLost items found. Paranormal Investigations. Consulting. Advice. Reasonable Rates. No Love Potions, Endless Purses, or other Entertainment."When the Chicago Special Investigations Unit finds a murder victim surrounded by strange symbols and candles, there's one person to consult.





	1. Empty Night

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to VelkynKarma for the idea bouncing and encouragement!
> 
> Also, if you're not familiar with the source material, you may want to hop down to the notes at the bottom. HOWEVER, this will spoil part of the fic for you, so be ye warned.

Pausing at the door of the warehouse, Shiro let out a low whistle.

In his time working with the Chicago PD’s Special Investigation unit, Shiro had seen a wide variety of crimes. From theft to arson to murder, there was always some kind of damage left behind.

Usually, it didn’t look like  _ this. _

The door to the warehouse seemed to have been bashed open - by what, Shiro didn’t know, but whatever it was looked like it had fists. The inside space was ringed in burnt out candles, and a series of symbols sketched out on the floor.

It might have been the corny aftermath of some teenager’s silly dare. Except that the symbols were drawn in old blood.

And also because of the body.

The man looked like he’d been in his mid-to-late thirties, and was nearly as tall as Shiro. He was lanky and pale, his dark hair cropped just shy of military short, except for the long, snake-thin ponytail at the nape of his neck. His chest cavity was entirely split open, ribs ripped apart like two racks of lamb, and his legs bent at awkward, painful looking angles. A puddle of blood surrounded him, but none of it touched the symbols.

“Yeah, not a pretty one, huh?” Detective Pidge Holt muttered. She carefully paced the length of the candle ring, eyes sharp as she made her way over.

Shiro managed a thin smile. “How long ago was this called in?”

“The owner tried to open shop around an hour ago,” she replied, eyes on the body. She supervised carefully as Hunk, the forensics officer, crept closer to try and get pictures. “As soon as we got the description, we went ahead and called our favorite local wizard.”

Shiro’s brows rose. “Are you starting to believe, Detective Holt?”

“In your hocus pocus? Hell no, Shirogane. But I’m not going to spend hours on crappy websites trying to decode these symbols. Not when I can just call in an expert.” Pidge’s lips quirked in what might have been a smile on a different day. “So go take a look. And don’t disturb my crime scene. Or Hunk.”

Snorting, Shiro eyed her. “I’ve been doing this longer than you have, you know.”

“Who has the badge here, again?”

Shiro shook his head, but didn’t protest further. Instead he started to look around.

First, he stuck to the candle ring. There were 28 in total, making what looked like a perfect twenty-foot or so circle around the body. Shiro didn’t have to check with a compass to know that at least four of them matched exactly to the cardinal directions, and the rest were too perfectly spaced not to line up.

That didn’t mean anything in particular. With that many candles, whoever had done this might have just gotten lucky. Still, it was a sympathetic magic trick - if any real ritual was done here, then it would have been more powerful. Especially here in Chicago, among the few international crossroads of unprecedented scale.

Each candle was subtly different from the rest. Handmade, then, which either spoke of Etsy-brand witchcraft or actual knowledge.

Really, the internet made Shiro’s job so much harder than it needed to be.

There seemed to be a set variety to the candles, though. Some were short and stocky, some had a thin top and a flat bottom, some were skinny and tall, and some had a flourish at the top. Over and over, always in that order.

Seven each.

Hm.

Stepping over the line, Shiro tip-toed through the symbols.

The largest by far was just over the head of the victim. At first, Shiro was ready to dismiss it as gobbledygook, until he recognized it was two symbols overtop each other. The first was obvious - a pentagram, the go to of mundanes on a magic kick the world over.

The second was more interesting. A circle inside a square inside a triangle inside a final circle.

Quintessence.

A quick check confirmed the symbols for sulfur, salt and mercury also strewn around, each at due east, south and west.

Hm.

“Sorry, can you step over for a second?”

Shiro’s head snapped up, and he shot Hunk an easy smile. “Sure, sorry. Didn’t mean to get in your shot.”

Flapping a hand, Hunk sided up next to Shiro to take pictures of the largest symbol. “You’re fine, don’t worry about it. You, uh, finding anything?”

“I’m starting to think so,” Shiro admitted. “It seemed to theatrical to be actual magic at first. You can get all this off a quick google search. But, well...”

All combined, it seemed to add up to something.

But how did killing whoever this was lead to  _ alchemical change? _

“Very convenient, that you think it might be something,” Pidge drawled, stepping closer. Despite her tone, her eyes flashed with good natured teasing. “Since you don’t get hired onto a case if it’s nothing. But, hell, if there was any case I was willing to go on a limb for you...”

Yeah, this would be the one.

Shiro sighed. “Users don’t usually act like this, is my problem. Magic is magic, and this feels more like TV. Besides, something like this should feel slimy. Dark. It’s been a few hours, but not long enough for it to have completely gone.”

Then again, Shiro wasn’t wasn’t the best at sniffing out residual magic. Someone else might have an easier time picking up whatever the ritual left behind. But admitting that was the start of something much larger, and he wasn’t prepared for that.

“Nope, all you magic people are very, very secret and special and don’t let us normals find out anything. Unless they list themselves in the phone book.”

Shiro flashed her a smile. “Pidge, it’s skeptics like you that mean I don’t get in trouble for this job. So thank you.”

“I believe you, Shiro.”

“Thank you, Hunk.” He paused. “Speaking of believers, where’s Lance?”

Pidge sighed. “He’s talking to the owner right now. Should be meeting us soon. Besides, he took one look at this scene and backed out. Said it has bad energy.”

Tilting his head, Shiro hummed thoughtfully. “Did he now?”

“Stop trying to tell my detective he’s a wizard.”

“Lance isn’t a wizard,” Shiro replied primly. “That doesn’t mean he’s not sensitive to magic.”

Hunk shuddered. “Better him than me. I don’t feel anything, but this is still awful.” He stepped closer as carefully as he could manage, just barely avoiding the edge of the bloodstains, and started to take more pictures of the body.

Then he paused, pulling back from the screen and frowning deeply.

Straightening up, Hunk gestured to the victim’s head. “Detective, could you turn the head the other way? I don’t think I can reach without disturbing the blood pattern.”

Pidge nodded and stepped around the body. She rested her gloved fingers on either side of the man’s jaw and turned so they were facing the other way.

Immediately, Hunk leaned in as close as he could, though his face was twisted in disgust at being so close to such a grisly looking body. “Looks like a tattoo.”

Crouching down, Shiro leaned in to get a closer look.

Then his heart skipped a beat.

A stylized X, each edge elongated and pointed, with an extra line straight down. A small, ovular blank space in the center, with a slit like a cat’s eye.

The symbol of the Galra.

Either whoever had decided to play with the occult with the unluckiest bastard Shiro had ever met - a high bar to cross, given his past and situation - or this had just gotten  _ dangerous. _

A human servant to the Galra.  Maybe a thrall, but probably not with that tattoo.  No, this was an employee.  An unusually high ranking one too.

And someone had cut them open and used them like an art project.

Who could do that?  And why?

“Shiro?” Hunk frowned down at him, brow furrowed in concern and thought. “You okay?”

Nodding, Shiro stood and took a deep breath. All he got was the thick smell of old blood, with didn’t help at all. “I will be. I just need air.”

“Go find Lance,” Pidge said, nodding to him. Her lips pinched together with concern, but her gaze was still on the tattoo.

A symbol that held a deep, personal significance to her. The calling card of the beings that had stolen her father and brother away. And Pidge didn’t know.

For what was neither the first nor the last time, Shiro opened his mouth to tell her, but the scar on his face burned and his throat closed up.

So instead he nodded to them both. “Be careful.”

“I have back-up,” Pidge replied, brows up. Her gaze was far too direct. “You’re the one who’s always alone. I know you hate hearing this, but have you considered-”

Shaking his head, Shiro turned on his heel, effectively ending the conversation. “I’ll call you if I turn anything up.”

Behind him, Pidge sighed, and he heard Hunk murmur something quietly to her. He didn’t stay to try and listen.

On the way out the door, he nearly ran straight into Lance and the coffees he was carrying.

“Sorry!” Shiro danced out of the way, just barely avoiding a full-on collision.

Lance yanked the coffees away, held securely in their styrofoam tray. “Damn, Shiro. In a hurry? I don’t blame you, this place makes me want to throw up.”

Nodding, Shiro glanced back. “It’s not a pretty one, that’s for sure.”

“Nah, not that. I’m a cop, I’ve seen worse. Something’s making my stomach turn. I had to get coffee just to distract myself from it.” He held up one of the cups in a salute and took a sip. “Grew out your bangs again?”

Shiro paused, confused, then reached up. “Oh. Not on purpose. Just didn’t cut them back when I trimmed it.” His fingers ran idly through his fringe. “Avoiding going back in?”

“Hell yes. I’ll run all over Chicago for whatever clues we need, but I don’t want to be in that warehouse right now.” Lance saluted with the cup again. “Was it bad magic that had you running out of there? I want to rub it in Pidge’s non-believing face.”

Snorting, Shiro shook his head. “No, I’m still trying to figure out what it was. But you have a good nose for it. I wouldn’t bet against you.”

Lance’s chest puffed out. “Damn right, I do. I always knew they lost my Hogwarts acceptance letter. But if that’s not it, then Pidge was trying to get you to join back up again?”

Immediately, the faint amusement drained out of Shiro. “It’s not up for discussion.”

“You should,” Lance said. “I know all of us would feel better if you had back-up on cases. And a gun.  You have whatever you do, but you could use something to end a fight and keep you safe.”

Shiro shrugged. “I get by.”  A gun would be secondary, even tertiary, to the magic Shiro could do anyway.  But without a demonstration, none of them believed he was protected, and Shiro wasn’t about to go there.

“I saw your old detective file.” Lance shrugged at Shiro’s sharp look. “Hey, Hunk was the one who found them! He was curious. Your arrest record was great, and your qualification scores were fantastic. You know the department would take you back.”

Maybe. If they could forgive disappearing without a trace for over a year. Shiro wasn’t so sure that was the case.

“I have my reasons. Besides, I get to be my own boss. And I don’t have to drink the swill coffee they give you at the station.”

Lance let out a single, choking laugh at that. “Fine, fine. We just worry, you know?”

“You don’t have to,” Shiro replied. But he gave Lance’s shoulder a squeeze. “It’s appreciated, but I’ve made it this far on my own. Now, stop putting off your job. And keep an eye on those two, okay? Make sure their sense stays in control of their curiosity.  Especially today.”

Sobering, Lance nodded. “Always, man. You stay safe. It’s a dangerous city.”

More so this morning than any day before.

Nodding to him, Shiro gave Lance’s shoulder one more pat, then made his way to his car.

If this was the Galra, then Shiro knew who to contact.

***

_ The Luxite Blade _ was an unassuming, run-down looking pub. The only hint of the name to a casual passerby was a single, faded wooden sign. The letters were nearly completely faded, but the image of a dagger still shone like it was painted yesterday.

Shiro wrapped his coat tighter around his chest, braced against the chilly winds. October was barely over, but it already felt like the worst kind of winter.

Then again, Shiro had said that every year since moving here. It never failed to earn him a laugh.

Stepping inside the pub, Shiro sighed as heat warmed his chapped face. Around him, there was a small wave of movement, as patrons instinctively glanced over, then quickly away again.

As it should be. No one caused trouble in  _ The Luxite Blade.  _ If you couldn’t help yourself, it was better not to pay attention to who came inside.

Ignoring the other customers, Shiro settled at the bar, and beamed when he saw who was behind it. “Hey, there. How’s work been, today?”

Keith looked up, brows together. But when he realized it was Shiro talking to him, his expression softened. “Slow. And Thance is already on me about tips.”

Snickering, Shiro rested his chin on his palm. “Have you tried smiling more?”

“No.” Keith’s scowl came back, this time playful. “I liked your last suggestion better.”

Shiro paused and straightened. “Which suggestion would that be, again?”

Frowning, Keith glanced over, then nodded his understanding. “Ah. Right. That I should wear more low-cut shirts.”

“Oh!” Shiro snickered. “That is a good suggestion. A v-neck would definitely help.”

Grabbing a towel off the top of the bar, Keith balled it up and threw it. Shiro caught it casually in his prosthetic arm, then tossed it back.

“This isn’t your usual time to come,” Keith pointed out. “Work?”

“Mhmm.”

“Kolivan isn’t going to like it.”

Shiro shrugged. “He doesn’t have to. I’m not breaking any of his rules. No fighting, no accusations, no sides. I just have a question about a symbol. Ulaz in?”

Keith shook his head and started to fill a glass. “No, he’s not scheduled till tonight. And Thance just went out for a supply run.”

Dammit. Shiro nodded, resting his arms against the counter. “Alright. I’ll be back later.”

“You can ask me.”

Shiro’s head snapped up. “I mean, we can talk, but it’s a work question. I’m not sure it’s anything you’re familiar with.”

Rolling his eyes, Keith set the glass down hard in front of Shiro. The beer sloshed dangerously, but didn’t actually spill.

Shiro deeply suspected the glasses were charmed, but it would be rude to ask.

“Look,” Keith said, meeting Shiro’s gaze directly. “I’ve been a me- working here for a long time. Years, now. I’m not someone ignorant for you to save anymore. I don’t know everything, but I know more than you think.”

Gaze softening, Shiro nodded. “You’re right. You are. I just-”

Keith sighed and nodded, leaning against the counter. “I know. I owe you a lot, Shiro. You gave me somewhere to stay, and you were there the whole time I found a place. But I’m not that person forever. Let me help.”

And, really, what could Shiro even say to that?

“Alright. You’re right. I’m sorry.” He took the beer and took a long swig, because even thinking too deeply about this case was making his hands want to tremble. “Special Investigations was called in to investigate a body this morning. Looks like they were used in some sort of ritual. Either really old-school, or very internet.”

Keith frowned and nodded, brows furrowed. “That’s bad, but why do you need one of us?”

Eyes falling closed, Shiro tapped the side of his neck. “The victim had a tattoo here. Of...” Rather than say the name out loud in such an open place, Shiro traced the symbol on the table, then made a point to scribble it out. Just in case. Always best to be careful when it came to magical symbols.

“Oh.” Keith swallowed hard. Then he snagged Shiro’s beer and took a sip.

Immediately, Shiro bristled and his hands twitched against the bar. “Hey. That’s mine.”

Keith eyed him, but obligingly pushed it back. “It’s on the house anyway. Sorry. I thought you were doing better about that.  It’s not like you never share with anyone.”  His brows jumped pointedly.

“In some ways.” Shiro gripped the drink tightly and didn’t elaborate. “That’s why I wanted Ulaz. I doubt SI is going to get a good ID on the victim. I was hoping he could.”

Nodding jerkily, Keith bit the inside of his cheek. “If you-” He paused as someone came up to the bar, holding their glass expectantly. “One sec.”

“Gotcha.”

Shiro settled back and watched Keith work, stomach heavy. It was true that Keith didn’t need to be sheltered or protected. He still wasn’t 100 percent sure all of what the members of the Blade of Marmora did. He wasn’t one of them, and he’d never know, but he’d investigated them deeply when they’d contacted Keith. As infected Red Court vampires who refused to drink blood and fully shift, they had enhanced strength and senses, and their thumbs in all manner of pies.

They were also eager to take in one of their member’s children. Shiro still wasn’t sure what to make of that. He hoped it was simple loyalty, but he’d seen too many awful things to trust them fully. Excluding Keith, Ulaz was the only member he’d consider a friend.

Shiro was just being overprotective. But it was for Keith, so it was allowed.

“Describe him,” Keith finally said. “From the tattoo placement? That’s a commander. There’s not too many of those.”

Shiro swallowed hard. A commander of the largest, oldest, and most powerful group of Red Court vampires.

And someone had slaughtered him like an animal sacrifice.

“Alright.” He rattled off the description as best he could, watching Keith carefully.

Eventually, Keith shook his head. “No, sorry, I don’t know. There are a few humans at higher ranks in the Galra, if only for keeping local governments off their back or whatever. But I don’t know much about any of them.  I’ll ask, and I’ll call you after.”

“Use the office phone,” Shiro advised. “It’s still holding up pretty well. I had to replace the one at home. The newer models barely last a month, now.”

“Poor Shiro. One day they’ll invent a magic-proof cell phone.”

Shiro snorted. “Good luck with that. And thanks for the drink. It’s been a long day.”

Brows raising, Keith tilted his head. “Don’t say that yet. It’s not even lunch.”

“Don’t remind me.” Shiro clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve got footwork to do. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

Keith nodded. “I’ll call you as soon as someone makes an ID. And I won’t tell Kolivan.”

“You’re the best.” Draining the last of his beer, Shiro pulled his coat up and pulled out his wallet. He pointedly dropped a few dollars into the tip jar, just to see Keith grin. Then he slipped back out, carefully avoiding the gaze of any other patrons.

Time to do some research.

***

Several hours later, Shiro had several very old, very dusty books propped open on stands on his desk. Each showed the possible meaning of alchemical symbols, and each disagreed on the outcome of overlaying them with others.

Useless.

Just as he started to open yet another, there was a thrum through the wards. The magic in his office rippled like a wave, as if it were a pond and someone had dropped a huge rock in it.  His cat, who had been napping contentedly on the couch, suddenly picked his head up, bristling.

Then there was a knock on the door.

Reaching into his coat pocket, Shiro gripped the edge of his rod and stood. With another flick of his wrist, the wards parted, and the door unlocked in invitation.

It swung open, revealing Queen Allura, the Winter Queen. A step behind her stood Coran, her personal attendant and close adviser.

Shiro dropped into a respectful bow, relaxing his grip on his wand. “Your Majesty.”

Immediately, Allura waved him off. “Enough of that. Even on a business call, there’s no need for that address just between us.” She stepped into his office, bringing the scent of ice with her. Coran shut the door behind her, and Shiro heard rather than saw the lock click into place.

As Allura stepped forward, a blur of black and white darted in front of her. Far too dignified to cry out, Allura only paused mid-step as the cat scampered up to sit on top of the bookshelf.

Allura frowned and sighed. “That cat of yours always manages to startle me.”

Giving a small smile, Shiro inclined his head. “He does that to everyone. Apologies. I think he likes being underfoot. Please, both of you, take a seat. He shouldn’t bother you anymore.”

“He’s not a bother. But I’m thankful for that white spot, for the sake of my luck.” Allura smiled back, and obligingly sat across from him.

Coran settled in as well, though he stayed more alert that Allura did. Shiro still wasn’t sure if it was because he hated Allura’s all-too-frequent trips into mortal realms, or because he didn’t trust Shiro himself.

“What can I help you with, then?” Shiro asked, pushing aside the books. The case was important, certainly, but not as important as having the literal Queen of the Unseelie Court in his office.

It would never do to insult her, after all. Even if Allura seemed fond of him. Shiro wasn’t going to forget that she wasn’t mortal, and didn’t follow their rules. It was up to him to follow hers.

Allura leaned back in her chair, expression sobering. “Something changed in the mortal world last night. Something significant. What do you know about it?”

Swallowing hard, Shiro glanced at his books, then back at Allura and Coran. “I’m not sure. Honestly, I don’t feel magic the way you two do, so I can’t be sure what you mean.”

“Of course you don’t,” Coran agreed easily enough. He pulled out a piece of paper from his pockets and unfolded it, showing a map of Chicago. Placing it on Shiro’s desk, he pointed to one spot in particular. “From what our sources say, it occurred last night, in this area.”

His finger rested not two inches from the warehouse Shiro had investigated.

Taking a deep breath, Shiro leaned back in his chair. “I see. Alright, then yes.  There was some activity in that area last night that the police found, but I don’t know how what I saw could translate into something that would alarm you. But I don’t think your subjects need to worry, unless they have contacts with Red Court vampires.”

Coran glanced back at Allura, head tilted. When she nodded, he focused on Shiro again. “I’m afraid it’s more serious than simply buzzing a few Winter wings. Whatever happened? It threatened the Balance.”

Freezing utterly, Shiro stared at them both. “I don’t- what I saw was worrying for a mortal, sure, but- both Summer and Winter?”

“The how and why isn’t what we need you to find,” Coran said. “It’s merely the who.”

But Allura met Shiro’s gaze, her expression cold and serious.

The look sent ice through Shiro’s veins. Across the room, the cat bristled, reacting to Shiro’s growing tension.

“I must disagree. We know the who.” She paused, taking a bracing breath. “The magic was like that of the missing Mother Winter.”

Oh.

No wonder the magic hadn’t felt like anything to Shiro. It wasn’t mortal. It was  _ fae. _

After all, Shiro knew damn well how hard it was to sense and anticipate fairy magic.  To know he’d been so close to Haggar-

Heart thudding wildly in his chest, Shiro made himself nod. “That explains your visit, then.”

Allura merely nodded, looking him over. “I wouldn’t ask your help with Court business if it were not in your territory, and were it not so important. The balance is on the knife’s edge already, without Mother Winter in our realm. Whatever that power was doing, it threatens to fully destroy the equality between our realms. We must find her, and we must stop whoever is using that power.”

Nodding again, Shiro steeled himself, refusing to show any more reaction that he had so far. Under his desk, his prosthetic clenched and unclenched rhythmically.  “I understand completely, Your Majesty. I’m already looking into it, and I promise you, if there is any sign of Mother Winter, I’ll let you know everything I possibly can.”

“And it will be worth your time to do so,” Allura agreed. “And I trust you have at least an above average understanding of the danger this poses.”

Shiro managed a smile. He suspected it was sickly on the edges. “I do.”

More than Allura knew.

“Before you go, Your Majesty.” he added, “I have one question for you. What would a fairy use mortal ritual symbols for?”

Coran frowned, head tilted. “We would not. There is little need for those symbols for our magic.”

Shiro nodded thoughtfully.

Well, that meant that Haggar herself probably wasn’t performing strange rituals on Galra commanders. Not that Shiro had suspected she was. That would be culling her own herd, after all.

The scar on his face burned viciously before he could even open his mouth to share the thought.

“Thank you, that’s all I needed to know,” Shiro said, head held high. He stood and bowed to Allura again, because it never hurt to be respectful.

The move earned him an indulgent smile. “Then we’ll leave the investigation in your hands,” Allura replied. She started for the door, offering one last glance at the cat, who remained bristled and agitated. Coran stood quickly and moved to open the door for her, but she waved him on. Then, once he was down the hall, she glanced back at Shiro. “Next time, I will warn you before I come. And then...”

Shiro cracked a smile. “I’ll be happy to provide milkshakes for you again, Your Majesty.”

Flashing him a last grin, one that looked more at home on the face of a young girl then the Winter Queen, Allura slipped out and closed the door.

Shiro slumped back hard in his chair, feeling the frantic beating of his heart. He focused on keeping his breath steady.

This was not the time for a panic attack.

Turning, Shiro rolled the chair to the window and pulled up the shades. His office was only on the second floor, so he couldn’t say it had a view. There was no hint of the Chicago skyline.

But he could see the people walking around - the mundanes, the mortals, and the magic.

All of whom were in danger, in a way they had no way to comprehend.  Haggar might be here, and where she walked, horrors followed her.  She took what -  _ who _ \- she wanted and left nothing behind.

And if Shiro even thought about warning anyone, the scar burned and his throat closed up until he couldn’t breath.

There was a soft thump, as the cat jumped down from the bookshelf. Then there were footsteps, the soft slap of bare feet on hardwood. “Need to tap out?”

“Not yet,” Shiro replied. He looked back and smiled thinly at the identical man across from him. Or, nearly identical. “Lance commented on my bangs today. Asked why I was growing them out.”

Snorting, Ryou moved to sit on Shiro’s desk, rather than either of the chairs. They were probably still too cold to be comfortable. “He’s not going to figure it out because your hair grew too fast.”

“It’s still a risk.” Shiro turned again, facing his twin properly.

Ryou closed his eyes. “It’s a tiny one. And I need one thing to see in the mirror to know it’s my face and not yours. If it gets to be a problem, I’ll grow them out or we can cut yours. For now, let me have the one difference. Please?”

Sighing, Shiro nodded. “Alright. A swap wouldn’t be a bad idea. It should have been you at that crime scene. I couldn’t sense anything.”

“I’ll check it out tonight,” Ryou agreed. “And we should fortify the wards at home.”

Shiro nodded darkly. “Not that it’ll do anything.”

Raising his chin, Ryou met his gaze. “It can. It can give us enough time, just in case she does know we’re here. What I can’t protect you from is Allura, when she realizes you lied to her.”

“I didn’t,” Shiro replied, a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. “I told her I’d tell her whatever I could. And I will. I’ll tell her what the curse lets me. It just won’t be a lot.”

“Sneak.”

Ryou reached out his left hand, palm toward Shiro and fingers spread wide.

Smile growing, Shiro placed his own palm against it.

Magic crackled between them, building up sympathetically as it darted between both their hands.

Alone, they were competent wizards, above average in power, but mostly relying on their wits to defeat opponents.

But together.

Together, they amplified. Together, they built up. Together, they were a powerful defensive force, able to withstand even an attack from the Blackstaff.

Shiro knew that for a fact, because Haggar had made them, once.  For once, she’d needed no threats, no magic to force his hand or his mind.  Shiro and Ryou had done it to protect their own lives and each other.

There were very few of those instances.  The other had been when Ryou voluntarily agreed to one of Haggar’s prosthetics so Shiro would no longer be her main target.

No amount of magical shielding had protected them from Haggar the first time around, and Shiro doubted it ever would. If she found them, she would take them.

Pretending to be one person helped hide them. It kept them from drawing notice. One strange wizard detective, no matter his track record, no matter his odd arm, couldn’t be that interesting.

The charade, one part necessity, one part choice, had kept them alive.

After all, guilt couldn’t actually kill Shiro.

“Let me take over for a while,” Ryou asked again. His eyes and voice gentled as he pulled his hand from Shiro’s. “I can handle it for an evening. Rest.”

Shiro took a deep breath. “Alright. You’ll need to wait around for Keith’s call before heading out.”

Nodding, Ryou leaned forward and kissed the top of his head. “Of course. Anything I should remember when talking to people?”

“Mmm, nothing today. Good luck.”

With that, Shiro stood up and moved over to the couch against the wall. He sat down heavily on it, then slumped onto his side, blurring as he moved.

Where Shiro had been was a black cat with a single white spot, watching with sleepy gray eyes as Ryou sat down on the chair and began to work.


	2. Stars and Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case continues to unfold as the investigation continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was going to post this separately, since it kinda stands alone, but then I realized that the mere tags would totally spoil the first chapter to hell. So it lives here instead.
> 
> Forgive my POV swapping mid-story. I don't like it so much these days, but it's gotta happen.
> 
> Happy Platonic Week!

“You’re heading out?”

Ryou glanced back over his shoulder as he shrugged on their jacket.  He ignored Shiro’s tight, disapproving tone. “Yeah. I want to have a look around and talk to some contacts before the sun goes down.”  

The courts weren’t the only fairies that would have noticed the changes over the past few days, after all.  There were hundreds of small, unaligned Folk who spent most of their time in the material plane. They might not have seen much, but they were a resource that most people, even those in the know, didn’t think of.

It helped that Ryou had certain ways of getting them to help.

Shiro pressed his lips thin, shoulders tensing.  “Maybe you should wait till tomorrow. Keith was going to call soon.  Besides, it’ll be dark soon, and who knows what or who is lurking around the streets after last night.”

“Yeah, we don’t know.  That’s the point. It’s our job to figure it out.  Keith can leave a message. That’s what the phone is for.”  Ryou whirled around to frown at Shiro. “You were just out all day.  What’s with this crap?”

All he got was a shrug.  Shiro’s left fingers curled around his right forearm.  That was answer enough, if unintentionally.

This case felt like Haggar.  Or, at least, it had the smell of her.

Ryou fully admitted that made him uncomfortable.  Deeply so. And night time in early November was a bad time to be messing with the powers of the Winter Queen, that was true.

But he also didn’t plan on sitting around inside during this whole case just because Shiro was feeling nervous.  Especially when it was Ryou’s contacts that would give them answers for this case. SI were great people, but they weren’t going to be able to do anything about Haggar.

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Ryou said.  “Just long enough to wander around the crime scene and go to the store.  It’ll be fine.”

Shiro’s lips pressed thin.  “And if you find Haggar while you’re alone?  What then?”

If they ran into Haggar unexpectedly, then there was nothing either of them could do about it.  They both knew it.

Ryou groaned and scrubbed over his face.  “You know how the Folk are. The sooner I can talk to them, the sooner they’ll give me a real answer, and not something ridiculous they thought they saw.  And the longer this goes on, the worse it’s going to get. We don’t know what’s really going on. Why would Haggar do that to one of her own?”

“Why would Haggar care who she was hurting if it got her more power?” Shiro snapped back, as if Ryou’s point hadn’t come from him first.

“You want us to just sit around in our office and apartment until this blows over?  You know that’s not happening, Takashi.”

Shiro considered.  Then his form melted away, replaced by a cat with a single white spot.  He leapt onto Ryou’s shoulders and curled up, tail lashing.

What-

Ryou groaned.  “Are you serious?  No! Wandering around with a cat on my shoulder is supposed to be less weird and dangerous than just going alone?”

In response, Shiro’s tiny claws sank into the jacket cloth (and Ryou’s skin), anchoring himself.

The bastard.  As if Shiro would let Ryou pull this shit back.  That damn control freak barely let Ryou get away with cutting his bangs shorter, but  _ this _ was okay?  

Ryou’s fists clenched at side as he swallowed against a swell of bitterness.  It wasn’t like he didn’t understand where Shiro was coming from. When Haggar was even mentioned, Ryou wanted to huddle with his brother somewhere safe and focus on protection spells.  

Most of the time their jobs were silly, and relied more on Shiro’s detective skills than their magic.  When they did run into someone mundane and dangerous, Ryou didn’t go off the rails and insist Shiro carry him around like a mink coat the whole time.

“You’re being ridiculous.” Ryou snapped out.

Shiro put his head down and ignored him.  The bastard.

Rou opened his mouth to keep arguing, then set it out in a huff. If the alternative was being locked up for the next few days, then fine.  But he was bringing this up next time Shiro fussed.

“We’re definitely off the radar now,” he muttered to himself, even as he pulled out their keys.  “Nothing weird about a one-armed Japanese man in a duster, wearing a cat and talking about magic.  Yup, we’re inconspicuous for sure.”

Shiro yawned in his ear.

Ryou rolled his eyes.  “I think you’re even more annoying as a cat.  How do you manage that?” Locking the door behind him, he buttoned the coat up, and stepped out into the blistering late-fall chill of Chicago.

First order of business - ice cream.

“You can either hide in the jacket or wait outside like a stray,” Ryou muttered, ducking his face behind the collar of his coat.  “And if you get picked up by animal control, you can get yourself out.”

Huffing, Shiro finally unlatched his claws from their jacket.  He waited until they were outside of the grocery store, then he obligingly hopped off.  With a quick flick of his tail, he ducked into an alleyway and tucked himself behind a series of boxes.

Good enough.

Ryou picked up the first batch of store brand ice cream he could find and checked out quickly, triple wrapping it so it’d stay insulated and cold a little longer.  It was already stupidly chilly, so it should keep, but better safe than sorry. 

Back outside, Ryou offered his arm for Shiro to bound back up, and then they were off.  Luckily, their office wasn’t far from the warehouse, so Ryou didn’t have to fight a taxi driver about letting his cat inside.  

Police tape completely surrounded the place, and the still badly dented doors had been closed and locked.  But Ryou ducked under the tape without even a hint of shame, and a quick spell took care of the simple padlock.

Someone had already cleaned the body up off the floor, which was a shame.  Ryou hadn’t seen it for himself, though Shiro had done a pretty good job of explaining.  Later, he’d get copies of the evidence photos from SI, but for now he was going to have just work with the remnants.  Most of the rest of the crime scene had been left as it was. The candles were still lined up in a perfect circle, and the bloodstains were still obvious and visible.  Whoever owned this poor warehouse was never going to get the stains out.

“Did anyone say who owned this place?”

Shiro shook his furry head, and the tip of his tail twitched.

Mmm.  Something else to ask later.  Or, rather, something for Shiro to follow after.  He could do all the detective stuff. Ryou would stick to magic.

He walked a slow circle around the symbols, taking in the placement and the candles.  Handmade for sure, like Shiro had said. But they didn’t have the homey, but still professional feel that Etsy crafts had.  Ryou had seen a lot of that from ‘practitioners’, while he was still trying to figure out what was real magic and what was superstition.  There was real crap that could be bought online, but most of it had some level of polish, since someone else was paying for it. These were too irregular, too personal.  

Crouching down in front of one, Ryou pulled a pair of gloves out of his pocket and picked it up.  It was one of the ones with the flourish on top. The tip tapered and curved purposefully to one side, like a tail or a zigzag.  Whoever had made it hadn’t been gentle, either, leaving deep finger gouges. He held it out in front of him, trying to decide if the design on top was trying to be a rune or not.

Shiro hopped off his shoulder, landing gracefully on all four feet.  Then, a moment later, he was crouching there as well.

Starting, Ryou shot him a wild look.  “What are you doing?”

“One second.”

“No, zero seconds!”  

He glanced at the door to the warehouse, which was still cracked open.  “There was Winter Court activity here! We can’t- this is outside! Have you lost your mind?”

Seriously?  Ryou shouldn’t even be outside the apartment, but Shiro could come along as a cat  _ and _ as a person.  How the hell was that fair?  Ryou’s fingers clenched, and a spark of magic ran through him as he fought the temptation to curse his brother’s stupid face off.

“One second!”  Shiro ignored him and grabbed onto Ryou’s left hand, roughly ripping off the glove.  Then he put it on his own and picked up the larger, thicker candle. “Look.”

Ryou glared back.  “I see a reckless idiot holding a candle.  Oh, Ryou, you can’t go out at night, it’s too dangerous.  Let me go with you so I can ruin everything.”

But Shiro ignored him completely.  Instead he held up the big candle next to Ryou’s flourish candle.  “The finger grooves. I didn’t get a chance to look last time.”

Mouth open to argue, Ryou glared at the candles.

Then paused.

The grooves were totally different sizes.  The hands that had made the flourish ones were much thinner and smaller than the big candles.

Huh.

Ryou put down the flourish candle, and picked up one of the fat base ones.  It didn’t have any finger marks at all, nor did the nearly perfectly straight ones.

“This is the work of several people,” Ryou murmured, sitting back on his heels.  “At least two. As many as four.”

Shiro nodded, eyes dark.   His eyes were on the blood symbols on the floor, rather than the candles.

A sinking feeling settled in Ryou’s stomach.  He stood, and carefully stepped over the circle, careful not to disturb a thing more than he already had.

Then he put the flourish candle next to the streaks of blood.

“These weren’t made with a brush.  They’re not uniform enough. These were hand drawn with a finger.  By someone who knows what they’re doing, too - unless they cleaned up any chalk guidelines, I don’t see it.”  Ryou swallowed hard. “And I don’t think the person who made this made either of these two candles. Their fingers are bigger than this one, but smaller than the other.”

At least three.  Possibly five. More, if anyone else hadn’t been involved with the ritual parts.

Stepping back over, Ryou set the candle back down.  A shiver ran through him, nearly violent.

Shiro put his back as well, then adjusted Ryou’s flourish candle so it was exactly where it would been.  “You okay?”

“I don’t like this,” Ryou said.  “If it’s five people, that means one focus, and someone on each cardinal direction.  In that case, the four outside could have all focused into the person who drew the symbols.”

Five casters was a lot of magic, especially when evoking with a sacrifice.  Even five novice, unexceptional magic users could do a lot of damage with this spell.

But this didn’t look novice at all.

What did one person need with that much magic?  How had they even been able to  _ hold _ it?

For someone to be able to wield that much magic - especially boosted, sympathetic magic - was terrifying.  Ryou and his brother could hold back a meteor strike with just their own sympathetic magic. 

That much magic was definitely not human.

That was the kind of magic that  _ Haggar _ wielded.

Shiro stood and rubbed up and down Ryou’s back.  “How’s the magic feel in here?”

“Not great,” Ryou admitted, leaning into Shiro’s touch.  He might still be annoyed with his brother for being here, but he was thankful for the comfort.  “Not horrible, either. Almost all of it has faded, but spells based on death don’t feel good in general.”

Nodding, Shiro sighed.  “Sorry for the scare. I just noticed the finger thing.”

Ryou clenched his jaw, but nodded reluctantly.  “I would have missed that. It’s not really what I look for.”  He patted his own shoulder. “Alright, come on up. We can talk more later, when we’re safe and home.”

With a nod, Shiro melted away again.  The black cat bounded up onto Ryou’s shoulder.  He picked up his abandoned ice cream and shook it once, to make sure it hadn’t managed to melt.  When he was sure it was at least mostly intact, he locked the door again with a quick spell, then headed out.

The cold fall air felt good, at least for the first minute or so.  Ryou took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Facts. They needed to focus on the facts.  He didn’t know there were five castors. There could have just been three. That was a much more reasonable about of magic, even if it would cause impressive results.

Deep breath in.  Deep breath out. This was not the time to freak himself out.

It was time to speak with his contacts instead.

This time, Ryou didn’t have far to go at all.  The warehouse district was right next to the North Branch Chicago River.

The area right next to the river was elevated and fenced off.  Ryou glanced around quickly before hoping that. For the most part, everyone who worked here had gone home for the day, and anyone who hadn’t was inside and away from the cold.

Perfect.

Ryou gave a low whistle and pulled out his ice cream.  “Gosh,” he called, voice low but designed to carry. “This sure is a lot of ice cream.  I don’t know if I can eat it all.” He sat down cross-legged, and let Shiro settle in his lap rather than cling to his shoulder.

Farther across the river, there was a small glimmer of light, like a firefly.  Except there were no fireflies in November.

“I’d be totally willing to share all this delicious, chocolately cream, if someone were to just offer me a fair trade.”

More lights appeared, flickering curiously as they slowly drew near.

“I guess I’ll just have to throw out the extra…”  He held the container over the raised concrete edge, as if he were about to drop it.

Finally, one of the lights shot forward.  

“No!” Klaizap called zipping in front of him.  The Wyldfae nearly vibrated with tension. “Don’t throw it out!  It’s a waste! That thing won’t appreciate it at all!” He pointed to the edge of the river below them.

In the debris of pollution, trash and plant detritus, something burbled.

Ryou smiled cheerfully, scratching behind Shiro’s ears.  It earned him a purr, if a reluctant one. Well, tough shit for him.  If they were going to take the form of cats, then they had to act like it.  “Hello, oh mighty warrior of the Arus Wee Folk. Are you interested in a trade?”

“You know I am,” Klaizap muttered.  He settled on the edge of the elevated concrete wall, scowling.  “At least, I was until you brought your beast!” He drew a tiny sword from his side and jabbed it toward Shiro.  “How do we know this wicked creature won’t try to devour our King?”

Ryou bit his bottom lip to hide a smile.  “I would never allow such a fate to befall your King.  After all, who would eat pizza and ice cream with me? Besides, the Arus fairies are far too fast and clever to be caught by a lazy old cat like this.”  He tickled Shiro under the chin, and this time got a grumble instead of a purr.

Heh.

Finally, Klaizap moved closer again. The Wee Folk, much like their non-Wyld counterparts, looked similar to humans in shape.  But they were only a few inches tall, and many took on a more alien appearance. They glowed with a bright, golden light, and each sported curved horns, thin wings and long, thick tails.  

“Very well,” Klaizap declared.  “It is safe!”

At his call, the other lights darted closer, surrounding Ryou and Shiro with tiny, glowing balls.  A large number of them centered around his carton of ice cream with obvious interest.

The King of Arus settled down on Ryou’s knee, eying Shiro with obvious distaste.  “A trade is asked for. What would you have from us, oh Chocolate Knight.”

Ryou bowed his head respectfully to the King.  “Hello, your highness. I ask merely for information.  I understand something happened very close by last night.”

Immediately, all the dancing lights froze.  Many of them flickered out entirely. Klaizap, on the other hand, noticeably brightened.  He gripped his sword hilt in open indignation.

The King shuddered.  “Yes. Something happened.  Something powerful. But we had nothing to do with it!  We want nothing to do with it! None of us were there.”

“I didn’t think you did, I promise!’ Ryou held up his hands.  “All I want to know is if anyone saw anything. I know you guys guard this area.  If anyone saw, it was your keen eyes.”

The flattery was thick as ever, but it did seem to help.  Several of the lights flickered back on, and the tension noticeably eased.

Klaizap stalked forward, sword back out again.  “We were not nearby at the time. We were chased from our lands, cruelly and viciously.  By a vile woman!”

A woman?

In his lap, Shiro stilled, his sharp nails sticking out into Ryou’s jeans.

“What a horrible person,” Ryou said, his hand on his chest.  “I would hate to run into someone like that. Can you describe them to me, so I know what to avoid?”

“Big!”  Called one Wee Folk, shaking their horned head.  “Big like you. Bigger, maybe!”

“Cold!” Said another, wrapping their arms around their chest and shivering.  “They felt cold.”

“Cruel!”

“Mean!”

Ryou held up both his hands, his heart pounding in his chest. He was being anxious, not rational, but all of that sounded far too familiar.  “Physical descriptions, if you don’t mind. Something I can see.”

One Arusian landed on Ryou’s other knee.  She pulled back her lips to show her teeth.  “Big fangs. She yelled at me.” 

“She was tough, too,” Klaizap added, jabbing with his sword.  “I got her with this, and she didn’t even notice.”

Considering his sword was about the size of a sewing pin, that wasn’t quite as impressive as it sounded.  So Ryou nodded, and tried to keep his face neutral and friendly. Showing fear would only send the Wee Folk into a new panic.

“Definitely bigger than you,” the King said.  He tapped over the edges of his curved horns as he spoke.  “Her hair was shorter like yours, but with pink.”

Pink hair.

Something finally eased in Ryou’s chest.  He pet over Shiro’s back, until his fur laid back down.

It was the first description that didn’t sound like Haggar.

Ryou smiled back.  “Pink where? Here?”  He messed with his bangs.

The small, female Arusian flew up and ran her tiny hands along Ryou’s undercut.  “Here. It was longer, and it fluffed up on the sides. Like the beast’s ears.”

Unless Haggar had gotten a punk make-over, not her at all.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t involved in some way.  The magic still felt like her, according to Allura, and the ritual spoke of someone with that power level.  But at least it hadn’t been Haggar who had harassed these poor Wyldfae. He didn’t want her messing with anyone he knew, even in passing.  Both because they knew his face well enough to accidentally out them, and because no one Ryou liked deserved to be near her cruelty.

“So, big, tough, pink, and fanged,” Ryou repeated back.  “That’s all you remember?”

“Mean!”  Called one of the others.  “You forgot mean!”

“And mean.”

Klaizap rubbed his chin.  “Cold. Not like Winter, though, or like your cream.  Like the ground at night.”

…What did that mean?  

Ah, the problems with asking questions of something with a non-human mindset.

“Why chase you off?” Ryou asked, head tilted as he looked them all over.  

There was a confused, upset murmur, but no answer from any of the Wee Folk.

The King clapped his hands.  “This is all that we know. We have earned our cream, yes?”

All the lights around Ryou started to brighten and buzz.

Ryou hummed thoughtfully and went back to petting Shiro, until his claws finally came loose from Ryou’s pants.  “Hmm, I don’t know. Are we even?”

“If not, we will sacrifice Moontow!”

Immediately, several lights surrounded the small female fae who had played with Ryou’s hair.  She clasped her hands in front of her, and her eyes went wide.

Ryou held up his hands and shook his head.  “No! We’re good. You can have the ice cream.  We have a deal.”

There was a round of cheers, and all of the glowing lights swarmed around the carton.  It lifted up a wobbly few inches.

“This is a good deal,” declared the King.  “You are welcome back another time, Chocolate Knight.”

With that, they all buzzed off, taking the ice cream with them.  They settled on the other side, and in a furious swarm, the treat was gone.

Ryou stood up and shook his coat, getting off the dead grass and dirt.  Then he pulled Shiro back in his arms to hop the fence.

“So that was interesting,” Ryou murmured.  “Fanged, pink, big and cold. And mean.”

Cold, but not like winter or ice.  Cold like the ground. Cold like…

Cold like something lifeless.

Ah, shit.  Ryou knew what they meant.

“Undead.  And considering that symbol?  Probably a vampire.”

So the Galra had killed one of their own?  Was this a revenge killing against a human who worked in vampire circles?  It could have been a Black or White court vampire. Or was this an unaffiliated group of Reds, like the Blade of Marmora?  

If the Marmora were involved, Keith would say so, right?  Yes. Probably. If he know about it. Ryou hoped he would, at least.

“So, we know the crime.  We still don’t know why. Not what they were doing, and not why they did it there.”  Ryou absently pet Shiro’s back. “Why bother to chase off a nearby group of Wee Folk, either?”

Most people didn’t notice the Wee Folk at all.  Not even just non-magical people - they didn’t notice anything at all.  But casters rarely bothered with them, and they were off the radar of even the Courts.  As far as Ryou knew, he was one of the very few who bothered to keep their favor.

So why go through all the trouble of scaring off what basically amounted to magical fireflies?  Who would even think to do it?

Baffling.

“Let’s hit the office real quick to see if SI or Keith left a message.  Then he can head home. Sound good?” Ryou dug his fingers in behind Shiro’s ears.

His answer was a content purr and the slow swish of a tail.

Time to go, then.

***

Ringing.  Loud ringing.

Ryou picked his head up and blinked blearily at the phone across the room.  The room that wasn’t his, but his brother’s. 

He was sprawled out on Shiro’s bed, still surrounded by old reference books on symbology and Wyldfae.  Last thing he remembered was talking about sympathetic magic with Shiro. Apparently, he’d fallen asleep during their research session, and Shiro hadn’t bothered to kick him out.  Either Shiro had taken Ryou’s room instead, or he was already up, because he wasn’t in the room.

It wouldn’t be the first time they’d switched rooms, after all.  It wasn’t like they didn’t share everything else.

The phone was still ringing.

Picking up the old fashioned cord phone, Ryou forced himself to sit up.  “Hello?”

“Shiro?”

Pidge, apparently.  Ryou rubbed under one eye.  “Yeah. Good morning.” He closed his mouth before he could ask ‘what’s up?’, because it was a phrase his brother wouldn’t use.  The downside of living another person’s life. “Did something happen with the case?”

“There’s been another murder.”

Immediately, Ryou’s eyes snapped open, wide awake.  He reached over and smacked his fist against the door, loud enough to summon Shiro without calling for him.  Then he dove for his pad and pen. “Where?”

Pidge recited the location, her voice crisp and cold.  The sure sign that whatever had happened would bother her if she let it in, so she wasn’t.  “We haven’t gotten anyone down there yet, but from the description it was the same thing. Can you meet us there in an hour?”

Biting his bottom lip, Ryou nodded.  “I think so.” The door opened nearly silently, and Shiro slipped inside, eyes wide.  Ryou mimed slitting his own throat, then held up two fingers. His brother paled. “Maybe a little longer, but I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Good. See you then.”  With that, Pidge hung up.

Ryou slammed the phone back down, then let out a long curse.  “Again! Who pulls that kind of sacrificial ritual twice? 24 hours apart!”

“No one good,” Shiro said, rubbing over his face.  “Let me get a map. Is this one close to the other?”

“No.  This one is way north.”

Shiro scowled, then ducked out of the room.  He came back several seconds later with a big paper map of Chicago and several pins.  Climbing over Ryou on the bed, he pinned it to the wall next to them, then snagged the pen out of Ryou’s hands.  He circled the location of the first ritual, then handed it back.

Ryou pushed in behind him and circled the second incident.  Then he held the pen up like a ruler, connecting the two points.  “Nothing interesting between. Just Chicago.”

“Are they near anything?”  Shiro tilted his head, then shoved backward to start grabbing clothes.

Not really.  The first was on a river, and the second near a park, but no water.  Both were in business areas, but that didn’t mean much. It was Chicago.  There were a lot of businesses. 

What was there magically?

Ryou vaguely thought there was a new agey shop near the second ritual location.  But he’d never heard anything serious about it, and he wasn’t sure it was even still open.  They probably just did yoga and sold crystals and incense. 

The first one had the Arusian Wee Folk, and the second one-

Wasn’t there a brownie colony or two near there?

Ryou’s brow furrowed.

Taking his pen, he stared both of those colonies, as well as the Arusians.  Then he started to draw out his best memory of where the smaller fae groups were. 

“What are you thinking?” Shiro asked, pulling on his jeans.  

“Where do the Wee Folk come from?” Ryou asked slowly, capping the pen again.

Shiro paused, then shrugged one shoulder.  “The Nevernever?”

“Yeah.  But I mean, how do they get here?”  He tapped near the first ritual. “Why are they in our plane?”

“For ice cream and pizza, apparently.”  Shiro buttoned up his pants, then pulled on a sweater.  “I assume it has to do with energies or resources. The Nevernever is pretty unforgiving.  There’s less predators for them here.”

Ryou flapped a hand.  “Yes, but you can’t just jump between.  There are Ways, right? You step into one and out another, and suddenly you’re in Tokyo or Cairo or the middle of nowhere.  But you have to use a Way.”

Sitting down next to him, Shiro frowned at the map. Already, Ryou had starred a few dozen locations. “All of them?  That’s a lot of Ways, though. I thought the portals were rarer than that.”

“The ones I know are.  There are a bunch in Chicago since it has so many travelers.  Tourists and layover flights and stops at port for supplies. But those are the Ways into the Nevernever that are big enough for us to fit through.”

Shiro’s eyes went wide as he understood.  “But it’s probably easier if you’re smaller.  Wee, even.”

Nudging him, Ryou nodded.  “Exactly. So there are places are where the veil between us and the Nevernever is thinner, like worn cloth.  It has tiny holes that are too small for us, but enough for, say, a low-level Wyldfae.”

“Okay,” Shiro replied.  “So you think it has to do with that?  I don’t understand.”

Ryou stood up and stepped back, so he could see the little marks from a distance.  So he could see the forest for the trees.

Up close, the dots looked wide and random. 

From a far, he could see where they clustered.

“That ritual is big, Takashi. Powerful.  That many sympathetic energies with as many as five casters and a sacrifice?  That’s such overkill. But I could barely feel it hours later. You couldn’t feel it at all.”  Ryou leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “It went somewhere else.”

Shiro turned to face him, swallowing hard.  “It went to the Nevernever? Why?”

“Because,” Ryou said.  “I think they’re trying to make a new Way.”

A brand new rift in the fabric of reality.  A new entrance to the Nevernever, made instead of naturally occurring magic.  It would take an obscene amount of power.

“Why?” Shiro asked.  He stood and followed, standing shoulder to shoulder with Ryou.  “Why not just find one around here?”

Ryou shook his head.  “I have no idea. Maybe there’s something on the other side they want to get to.  Maybe it creates a path somewhere else.”

Shiro considered that.  Then his expression slowly darkened, as a new thought took root.  “So either there’s something they’re trying to access on the other side, or there’s something they’re trying to avoid here.”

Stomach icing over, Ryou swallowed hard.  Instinctively, he caught Shiro’s hand. Magic crackled between their palms, coiled and defensive.

What was so bad that it made someone this powerful run away?

Ryou could think of a few options.  One of them regularly haunted his nightmares.

“I need to go,” Shiro said.  He gave Ryou’s hand a gentle squeeze.  “I’ll be back soon.”

“I could come-”

Shiro shook his head.  “A cat at a crime scene?  No. They’d know something was wrong with that.  You wouldn’t get past the tape.” Shiro turned to face Ryou.  “Keep looking into this, okay? I swear, I’ll just go to the crime scene and come straight back.  Not even a stop at the Luxite Blade.”

Reluctantly, Ryou nodded, and squeezed Shiro’s hand back.  It  _ sucked, _ especially since Shiro had just come along last night, but he understood.  “Don’t do any magic there, okay? None. Just in case. I don’t want anyone to notice you.”

“I won’t.”  Shiro pulled him into a hug.  “Stay safe.”

With that, he pulled on his jacket and slipped out of the room.

Off to investigate.  To be Takashi Shirogane, wizard detective.  To step into the exact same possible danger he’d refused to let Ryou go to alone.

While Ryou sat around and waited for him.

The wards rippled, and then the door shut behind Shiro.  They reformed as he locked the door behind him.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Ryou whirled and punched the wall as hard as he could.  Then he hissed and cradled his knuckles, letting out a dark series of curses.

That would bruise.  He’d have to try to heal it, or else someone might notice the difference between them.  Ryou worked his hand for a moment, then let it be for now.

It was like the bangs.  He’d take his differences where he could.  Another way to look at himself and see Ryou, not Takashi, if only for today.

Instead, Ryou turned back to his map.

There were five clusters total.  Two of them had already had rituals.

They had 24 hours to figure out which of the other three the casters would hit next.

This was what Ryou Shirogane could do that Takashi Shirogane could not.  No one else would know, except maybe Keith. It would all be under Shiro’s name and Shiro’s license.  But Ryou would know, and it would keep them safe.

Clenching his bruised hand, he got to work.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick vocab for those who don't do Dresden Files: The Nevernever is the fairy realm, and is basically an alternate dimension that nestles against the usual. Think of it as the Fae Wilds in DnD, if that's more your jam. Ways are portals in and out, and often what might only be a short walk in the Nevernever will dump you out on the opposite side of the world.

**Author's Note:**

> So, since there's a ton alluded to and never fully explained - Shiro already knows more than most people in the narrative - here's some breakdowns. Possible Dresden spoilers ahead.
> 
> 1) What's up with Haggar, exactly?
> 
> So, the fairy courts of Winter and Summer have three 'rulers' in Dresden verse. There is the [Season] Lady, [Season] Queen, and Mother [Season]. These three act as a past/present/future spread of power, and are often but not always related. The Queen is the one in charge and does most of the running of the court, but some of the duties and needs are spread out. When one dies, the mantle passes on. For example, were Allura to somehow die, the (currently unmentioned) Winter Lady would automatically become the Queen, and someone else would become the Lady.
> 
> Right now, Mother Winter - Haggar - is missing. This is a problem because it puts the delicate magic balancing Winter and Summer in jeopardy. But she also isn't dead, because no mantles have passed. In actually, we know through Shiro that she's joined the Galra for her own reasons. Shiro and Ryou were both held captive by her, while she used their sympathetic defensive magic to protect both the Galra and herself. But neither of them can tell anyone they know where Mother Winter is, even being friends with Allura, because Haggar cursed them to make them physically unable to communicate the idea. If they try too hard, they'll suffocate.
> 
> 2) What's up with Shiro and Ryou, then?
> 
> So, once upon a time, there were a pair of twins. They were reasonably powerful wizards on their own, but like many magic users, never fully understood or had anyone teach them what they could do. Because of this, neither of them really knew what a big deal it was to be magical twins. Takashi decided the whole thing was basically advanced party tricks and became a detective instead (eventually ending up under Head of SI, Sam Holt, and working with Matt in forensics). Ryou, on the other hand, leaned much more heavily into the magic side, learning as much as he could and eventually making a minor name for himself. As he learned more, he learned how rare magic twins are, and started to tell other magic users about it to learn more. As Ryou's knowledge grew, they learned to both channel their magic defensively and create incredibly powerful protective magic, though Shiro still preferred being a detective.
> 
> But then Haggar heard about them. And when she took them, poor Sam and Matt got caught in the crossfire.
> 
> 3) Okay, what's this Red Court stuff? Is it like the fairy courts?
> 
> Nope, the Galra are all 100 percent vampires (or human helpers). In Dresden Files, there are three 'types' of vampire: Black, Red, and White Court. Black is very very old school stuff, Red are what we'd consider 'typical' vampires, and White are succubus/incubus. Red Court vampires have the taste for blood, super strength, and usually a monstrous form.
> 
> However, being bit by a Red Court vampire doesn't automatically turn you into one. It starts the process, and creates a constant thirst for blood (along with some beneficial physical changes), but it only completes if someone gives in and drinks. If someone doesn't, they stay in that started-but-not-changed state for however long they can hold out. And that's where the Blade of Marmora are.
> 
> 4) Is Keith a vampire?
> 
> Keith is the son of a wizard and of a halfway Red Court vampire. So, technically, no. He still has a bit of the benefits, and probably a minor amount of magic. Shiro found him on the streets and took him in before he got desperate enough and broke any laws of magic (which is usually a death sentence). So Keith is the only one who knows about the Shiro/Ryou situation, and acted as a mini-apprentice for a bit, before Shiro found out about the Blade. They're still very close (Keith and Ryou less so, but still comfortable around each other), so Keith wants to help with Shiro/Ryou's cases when he can. But he was utterly ignorant about his parentage and magic until very recently, so how much he can help is limited. He's learning, and he's trying to prove to Shiro he can pull his weight. To Dresden Fans: He's a mix of Molly and Maggie.
> 
> 5) Why the charade?
> 
> Haggar does not care about some single wizard in Chicago playing detective. She does not monitor human channels at all, including the records of either of them. They're careful not to show off too much, both to maintain deniability (if SI never sees him blast someone, they don't _know_ about magic) and to keep off the radar. Being twins would raise so many flags and they'd probably be snagged back up. They could be safer by living as normal people with 9/5 lives but... it's still Shiro and Ryou, and Shiro still has his on-file detective license, so....
> 
> Alright, that's plenty. The rest I keep to myself, in case this is continued. ;)


End file.
